


Mirage (a Thorki prologue)

by Rising_Phoenix



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Lady Loki (kinda), Like: there is no incest, Loki and Thor are ADOPTED brothers, Loki's Magic, M/M, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Prologue to a longer story I one day want to write, Pseudo-Incest, Shapeshifting, Thorki - Freeform, breaking up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/Rising_Phoenix
Summary: Thor meets Tíbrá after Loki's death in Thor: The Dark World, but not everything about hislover for a few days is what it seems to be...
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Thor (Marvel), Thor/Loki, Thor/Original Female Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Mirage (a Thorki prologue)

Tíbrá stood at the window of the small cabin she and the prince had spent the last days in, her slender body wrapped into one of the soft bed sheets, goosebumps on the pale skin, the green eyes set onto an imaginary point in the foggy distance of this cold morning. A single tear escaped her eye and she closed them, trying to collect her strength and not show how upset she in fact was. Weakness, it was not welcome. It had never been welcome.

Yet, she knew this was the day she and the prince would part and go their separate ways. She knew this was the last morning she would have spent in his arms, his strong and large hands caressing her body as if she was about to break, so unexpectedly careful and gentle, as she had never imagined him to be, and indeed she felt fragile next to him yet certain he would protect her no matter what.

It was a good feeling. A feeling she had not felt for many years, if not centuries.

Long forgotten were the days when the prince had made his promise of always being there for each other true. Long forgotten were the days when she deluded herself with the thought of a future that could never be. Words of love had been once spoken, but she knew the prince had never truly meant them, while she...she had.

Going to find him, finding him, and being with him may had been a mistake. But it was a mistake she had to make, unable to resist the pull. Maybe it had been her last chance to ever be with him before he left again for Midgard, for her, the other woman. And it had been a chance she had to grab with both her hands, a chance that had given her memories of these past days and nights that she would cherish for the rest of her life. She knew, in the lonely years to come, she would remember and smile at the memories he had given her, not knowing that this closeness meant the world to her. He would forget about her soon, when he had returned to the woman he loved, and maybe he would never think back to these few days and night. Never knowing that she had longed to be held by him since the time they had been young fledglings, tutored together, raised to be friends.

Turning around, she watched the sleeping man in the bed they had shared in vast passion, where he made her scream in a fulfillment unknown to her before. She remembered the feeling of him inside her, of his movements, his hands, his skin, his cock, and shivered. Was she really to never have this again?

How was that fair when everything else had always been taken from her, all her life? When everything that she had thought true had been nothing but a lie. Yet she knew she had to give this dream up.

Be reasonable. Be adult. Be wise. Be…

She leaned with a sigh against that wall, rubbing her upper arm, and continued to watch the prince. This beautiful man, this one and only in her heart.

His long blond hair was surrounding his head like a halo, the brows furrowed in a dream and the handsome face relaxed. His gorgeous lips, those lips that had kissed her, had sucked her nipples and nibbled at her earlobes, touched her womanhood, and smiled at her when he watched her after he had torn another climax from her body, were slightly parted, red from kisses and bites. Her sex was throbbing at the memory of their union, of these days when there had been hardly a moment when they had not been touching each other. Yes, they had eaten together, sat outside the cabin together, and watched a bunny chase a butterfly, making the prince laugh, but even then had their hands touched, had he leaned against her, had he kissed her hair. As if they were just a couple in love and not…

“Come back to bed, love.”

She looked up from her thoughts and smiled at him, who had suddenly woken up. The sheet had slipped, exposing his mid and arrays of beautiful golden skin, and also an assortment of love bites and little bruises her hands had left on him. Marking him as hers, just for this fragile moment.

He smiled at her, sad and knowing.

He knew.

Norns, he knew.

Tears fell against her will from her eyes, ready for humiliation, for mockery, but instead, he was prompted to reach out towards her, his large hand offering safety and comfort, the smile on his lips helpless despite his strength.

“Don’t cry, little one,” he whispered, taking her hand and pulling her against his chest, instantly kissing her head of long black hair. “No more tears. We have shed too many of those.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, drinking in the scent of his skin, musky, and warm. He stroked her long, soft hair, those messy waves he now was burying his nose in, his own eyes closed in tenderness.

“Do you miss her?” She then asked, fingers gingerly caressing his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“My mother?” She nodded in reply, humming shortly. “Yes. Every moment. I don’t know how to cope without her wisdom, her calmness. I don’t know if I can control my temper without her. But it’s not just her I miss. I lost too much these past days, even breathing seems suddenly a task too hard.”

“You will soon return to Midgard and see her again,” she said with a hint of jealousy, more intense sadness washing over her like a tidal wave.

“Jane?” He asked, obviously surprised by what she implied. “I did not talk about her, I was talking about my brother.”

Tíbrá stiffened in his arms at the mention of the trickster, the most hated man in all of Asgard and Midgard, the frost giant prince, the serpent, the traitor. The forsaken prince who should have never been let out of his cage in the dungeon. He, who was to blame for the queen’s death, for the many casualties that lost their lives when the Dark Elves had tried to not only invade their homestead but tried to conquer other worlds as well. How many lives had the rightful king of Jotunheim taken by proxy? How many families had he destroyed in his hunger for power? A shiver went down her spine thinking of him, disgusted and ashamed, and yet she was curious why he would mention him now.

“What about him?”

“He died in my arms. He died for me.” He swallowed, holding back tears. “I was never able to tell him I love him.”

Tíbrá nodded, her eyes twitching in confusion. Love?

“I am sure he knew,” she whispered, hearing her own warm voice tremble, not believing herself what she was saying.

“He did not. He hated me.”

She shook her head no.

“Nobody could hate you,” she gave back. “Not even a man with a heart as dark as his.”

He chuckled.

“Now I am sure you are a trickster yourself. You remind me so much of him, even when you resemble Jane in so many ways. Your humor, your wit. The way you look at me, the way you laugh. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes,” Thor trailed off, his voice suddenly again tired and his eyes falling shut when sleep hit him without having announced itself.

With a smile directed at the suddenly again sleeping prince, Tíbrá rose and dressed in a flowing dark green and black robe and high boots, knowing that her little spell would keep him sleeping a while longer. Long enough for her to vanish from his life. Forever.

She bent down and kissed his forehead. More tears escaping her eyes at this last goodbye.

“I love you, Thor Odinson,” she said an pulled the blanket over his body, turned, and stepped outside into the clearing surrounding the cabin that would vanish as soon as Thor had left after he would wake up in some hours, her spell finally simmering away, only an echo of her existence.

She closed her eyes and took another step, rolling her shoulders slightly and leaning her head back, welcoming the warm Asgardian sun on her face.

The moment her booted foot hit the ground, bright golden light cascaded over her body, changing her. The air bristled, birds in the close trees left their resting places while the magic did what it was asked of.

Her firm, round breasts vanished. Feminine hips became more narrow. Her legs became longer and her shoulders wider. The beautiful face lost it’s softness and changed into angles and edges, lip thinner, cheeks more hollow, eyes without any glow but filled with sadness.

“I have always loved you,” Loki said, wiping a tear from his eye and leaving his brother behind, not any longer allowing himself to show unwelcome weakness, not daring to look back another time.

After all, he had a kingdom to rule.

...to be continued?

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to write this story, which would continue after an alternate ending for Infinity War/Endgame...maybe I will, maybe I won't ;)
> 
> According to Google Tíbrá means Mirage in Icelandic.
> 
> Find me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/RisingPhnx1


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